Salad Fingers could best be described as a massachistic, skitzophrenic recluse, attracted only to pain and rust. It's human nature to find ourselves drawn to something that we find odd, especially if we're not one hundred percent certain why it has this effect on us. Salad Fingers is the perfect example: If one was to read every new grounds comment for Dave's SF toons, they would find that many of them sounded sincerely disturbed, but found themselves drawn to it at any rate. I find it interesting how many people are hooked on David's work, and I am amused at how much energy his fans devote to trying to interpret its meaning. I agree with many people who say that Salad Fingers stands out among the millions of brainless and clichéd flash toons that make up a large majority of internet space. I'm not knocking other flash toons or anything, really, I just think that Salad Fingers stands brilliantly and mysteriously on its own.

A movie known best on newgrounds.com, adored by the masses for its strange and sick atmosphere. It features Salad Fingers and his friends in a peculiar world created in both his fantasy and weird reality. David Firth, its creator, is literally the Ernest Hemingway of Flash, and yes, kung-fu, kick ass... whatever, kids are really shallow. Joe bastard, the only way you know everything about Salad Fingers is by watching every episode, and Van Halen wears spandex. A bit suspicious, no?

"I like it when the red water comes out."
"Hubert Cumberdale, you taste like soot and poo."
"It seems nettles have made the milk come out of my teat."
"I say, Milford Cubicle, would you like a warm glass of milk?"

Salad Fingers would pwn every bit of competition if entered in the Cannes film festival, I'll place money on it.

salad fingers is possibly an ordinary looking man, in an ordinary world, with an unordianry life. He is very mentally ill, depressed and unmedicated, or at least refuses to take it. What we see in salad fingers episodes is how salad fingers sees the world. Being depressed and mentally ill he sees himself as the way we see him and also sees an otherwise thriving world as post apocolyptic. His friends and those he encounters are all figments of his imagination from a combination of mental illness and lonliness. Favor of rust and blood also comes from his mental illness. Salad fingers lives in an apartment in the city, apartment number 22. However he is a lonley isolated man, and therefore he sees his apartment as being just one small house in the middle of nowhere. He has no contact with any other human beings whatsoever, until episode 5, where he interacts with a girl he originally thought was a product of his imagination but turned out to be real. This is signified by her being the only other character in the series other then salad fingers that can speak. Because he simply did not know how to be with real people, he broke down. There is no word yet as to if he ever fully recovered.

Salad fingers is a flash cartoon that uses the facade of random hysteria (rusty spoons, ridiculuos combinations eg. salad and fingers) to communicate a more serious, tragedic perspective of the world. This could almost be compared to naive art, in that it is seemingly spontaneous, a work deliberately imitating childish art, but in so doing accessing the darkest recesses of human consciousness. Not only does salad fingers touch rusty things, his mono-mania and schizophrenic behaviour hints at abuse and isolation. Salad fingers is not simply strange, laughable - in its repulsiveness it higlights aspects of the human condition that are glossed over in everyday life, or ignored in the mentally ill and the suffering. It is for this reason that salad fingers may be described as sad, as well as strange.

He dreams of rusty taps.
He talks to a broken telephone.
He is often reduced to being utterly terrified by a few choice words. ("I think he likes spoons too.")

In a dark realm beyond even the most remote, psychadelic hypnosis emerges salad fingers. The inertia of this creatures life revolves around its dysfunctional role in nature to find sexual pleasure in rubbing oxidized metals; the few adult souls who encounter him find themselves plundering into a glorious but agonizingly tortuous and ritualistic death; the only real contact reflecting any human persona expressal is with finger puppets who join in an occasional hair perm... to look directly at salad fingers is to inhumanely mock him; do not cage him, stay away from his world lest you find yourself the next fish in the oven...